


He Doesn't Like Sports

by StevetheIcecube



Category: Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bullying, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Injury, M/M, More Eighth Doctor Feels, Past Character Death, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StevetheIcecube/pseuds/StevetheIcecube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz wasn't good at sports, but Paul...Paul couldn't play sports without getting hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ankle

Fitz didn’t like sports. Like, really. He hated them. He was just about tall enough that everyone wanted him to be on their teams at the start of the year, but by three weeks in he was sort of picked halfway through because he was tall and sorta fast but no one liked him. He wasn’t even good at sport, not really. He didn’t have enough coordination over his legs. Hands, he was fine. Arms, nope. 

But, he supposed, at least he wasn’t as bad at sports as that one kid who had asthma, or the other one who was really fat, or the other dude who daydreamed so much that he usually didn’t hear anything, especially not in PE, which he clearly hated. Also, this poor guy was hopelessly fragile, and a pitifully easy target. When Fitz said easy target, he meant that everyone would run straight at him in chasing sports, and he’d be the first out, after being ‘accidentally’ stepped on. If Paul was in the game and on his team, Fitz knew they’d be a man down after a max of ten minutes in. 

Fitz didn’t dislike Paul. It wouldn’t be fair, he hadn’t done anything to garner any dislike. But Paul was decidedly odd, and he didn’t want to associate himself with some odd guy who was friends with girls. He had a reputation to keep up (and it wasn’t the reputation of a loser who played guitar decently (it really wasn’t (it was))). 

Fitz was out of the game at the point the injury for Paul happened. Of course the guy didn’t manage to get hit in the head by the ball like everyone else. Nope, he tripped over one of the ones that was on the floor, bashed his nose on a bench, and then have someone else ‘stand’ (stamp) on his ankle. He managed to stand up, about, but he looked sickly pale and he barely stood on it as he limped to the bench. 

“Kreener, help Paul to the nurse.” The teacher said. 

“Kreiner.” He muttered, and stood up. Paul stood up and attempted to limp out on his own, but he looked like he was in a lot of pain. He was shaking. 

The second they were out of the gym, Paul basically collapsed on to Fitz, leaning heavily on him. Fitz stumbled slightly, but managed to get an arm around him. This was awkward. 

“Sorry.” He said. “It hurts.” 

Fitz nodded. “I’m meant to be helping, it’s fine.” 

Paul smiled, walked forward a couple of steps, wincing at every movement, and promptly had his other leg collapse under him. He fell kind of elegantly, but he looked pretty pathetic there on the floor, in the white shorts and t-shirt of their PE uniform. 

Fitz offered his hand to Paul, and he took it, smiling, trying to pull himself up. He didn’t manage to get more than a couple of inches off of the ground before his ankle collapsed again. Fitz caught him this time, though. 

This was horribly awkward. He was basically holding Paul in his arms as he half carried, half dragged him further to the nurse. Eventually, he gave up, put an apologising Paul on the floor and picked him up. 

He was a really small guy, really. Tiny, like a foot shorter than Fitz. It was kinda funny. It was like carrying a small child. 

Paul was grimacing in pain now, but he still managed to look stupidly cheerful somehow. “This is awkward.” He said, sounding as upbeat as someone who wasn’t in a lot of pain would. 

Fitz smiled thinly. He’d never exactly spoken to Paul before, and now he was carrying him in his arms. His life was wonderful. Just wonderful. 

Paul looked a bit queasy. A lot queasy, actually. His eyes weren’t focusing on anything. 

That was about when he fainted in Fitz’s arms, and Fitz had to carry the most bullied kid in the year to the nurse in his arms. 

After this incident, Paul started following Fitz around. Fitz didn’t really mind, he was actually sort of glad to have some company in his endless break times of guitar practise. Sometimes, he’d sit at the piano and play with him. He was good at it, too. 

What Fitz did mind was Paul seeming to think that Fitz was his friend. Fitz was fine with Paul listening to him practise; he liked having an audience. But he didn’t want to be associated with Paul whenever someone saw him. 

He didn’t dislike Paul. In fact, he really liked Paul. What he didn’t like, however, was the bullying that came with Paul. Last year, a girl who used to be Paul’s friend was killed by some of these bullies, and they were never caught. Paul didn’t come to school for about two weeks (but Fitz didn’t really keep track of when Paul was in school, he just remembered the news and not seeing him getting injured in PE for a few weeks, so he probably wasn’t there. He was a quiet kind of guy). 

Fitz didn’t want to die. He’d be stupid if he let himself become friends with a guy whose friend died almost directly because of him. He didn’t like seeing Paul get upset about Fitz not liking hanging around with him, but he had to protect himself, and being friends with some lonely guy was just going to make it all harder. 

But Paul kept on at him. He kept showing up at his practises. He kept talking to him in classes, or turning up to eat with him at lunch. Fitz kept complaining, but it kept getting harder to turn him down. Paul was just so...sweet and innocent. He seemed to believe the best in everyone, even though he was treated so horribly by everyone. Fitz honestly thought it was a facade of happiness. Paul couldn’t possibly be a happy person. Too much shit happened to him. 

He was right. 

There was one day, and Paul didn’t turn up to watch Fitz practise. Then he wasn’t in PE. Nor was he around at lunch. He was gone, and now Fitz was worried. Stupid, stupid Fitz. You should have tried to be his friend before he disappeared with no prior sign of illness. 

He went to reception to ask for his address at the end of the day because he was worried. He’d go over, check he was okay. No harm in that, right? The receptionist gave him the address (she was hesitant, of course, Paul was bullied frequently and openly. They were probably worried he was going to beat him up) and he went over. It wasn’t at all far from the school, and it was mostly on his way home. His mum wouldn’t notice. She worried, but she wouldn’t notice. 

When he knocked on the door, it was opened by a blonde girl who was maybe his age, maybe slightly older. She frowned at him. “We don’t buy things from people who come to our door.” She said. She moved to close it. 

“No!” He said. “I, um, I came to see if Paul was okay? He wasn’t in school today and I was worried.” 

The girl laughed. She was very attractive, Fitz noted, but he wouldn’t hit on Paul’s sister or whatever. “Go away. Paul doesn’t have friends.” 

Fitz blinked. “He talks to me every day.” Of course, there was a possibility that Paul didn’t ever tell his family that he had a friend, or a half friend. “My name’s Fitz?” 

“Oh.” She said. She smiled and opened the door again. “Hey Fitz. Maybe if you come in he’ll shut up about missing you.” 

Oh. Okay then. Fitz was secretly pleased. He seemed to have set his mind on actually being Paul’s friend now, and knowing that Paul actually did want to be his friend was comforting (even though it was obvious already). 

“Hey, Paul!” She called, facing up the stairs next to the door. “Take your shoes off.” She said, turning back to Fitz. “Or they’ll start going on about being grateful for their hospitality.” 

Fitz took his shoes off, not questioning who ‘they’ could be. Probably her parents or something. His mum insisted on taking shoes off anyway, it wasn’t exactly a hardship. 

After a moment, there was a sort of crashing noise and Paul came running down the stairs. “Fitz?” He asked. “Why are you here?” 

Fitz smiled at him. “You weren’t at school, I wanted to check if you were okay. Are you?” 

Paul shrugged, and then shook his head. Fitz nodded. He probably wasn’t ill as such, then, just having a bad day. Fitz wished he was able to take days off when he was having a bad day. Dragging himself out of bed on those days was not fun. 

“You being here is great though.” He said, smiling slightly. “Are you staying or were you just checking to see if I was okay?” 

Fitz had been planning on just checking in. But he looked at Paul closely and he clearly wasn’t okay. His eyes were bright and his face was decidedly puffy. Also, he had a blocked nose, Fitz could hear it through his breathing. He’d been crying recently, and something was up. 

“I’ll stay, but I have to text my mum.” He said. 

Paul properly smiled this time, and it was nice to see it, even if he knew that he wasn’t really okay.


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz talks to Paul about why he's feeling sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore my inability to name chapters, I guess.

"Who's that?" Fitz asked, once they'd sat down in Paul's bedroom.

"That's Sam." Paul said. "She's basically my sister." Fitz didn't question the basically. They were probably close friends or something.

Paul's bedroom was messy. Very messy. Fitz couldn't really see the floor, especially not by the bed. They were sat on the bed, but Paul had consciously blocked him from sitting near the pillow. He'd literally sat down and then stood up and moved to sit there.

"She seems nice." He said, into the silence that was starting to feel very heavy.

"She is." He said. "She lied to her parents, said I was going to school today. They're probably going to be so PROUD." Fitz could hear the sarcasm. He could also hear the sound of a person very near to tears. Paul had also said that it was Sam's parents but not his. There was something here Fitz couldn't see, but he didn't want to pry.

"Did they know you weren't feeling good?"

Paul laughed. It was hollow and sarcastic. "Of course they know. Everyone knows. Little Paul, poor Paul, his BEST FRIEND died last year." Paul was crying.

Oh. Of course. It must be a year since that girl, Lucie, he sort of remembered, was killed.

"Tell me about her." He said quietly.

Paul was silent. Fitz was sure he must have said the wrong thing.

"Lucie moved here when she was eight, and she was in the year below me in primary school. I didn't have any friends because my teachers had told them I was unstable and they shouldn't come near me. Lucie didn't get that warning, and she got teased because of her accent for some reason, just because she was from Blackpool." He stopped for a second to wipe his eyes and nose with his sleeve. "We were best friends. We did everything together. I even paid a boy to date me for two months in year seven so her mum would let us have sleepovers together." Fitz remembered that. It had been the talk of the year, ooh, two gay people dating. If he remembered right, Matt had broken up with him in a huge yelling fight about Paul being weird. "She had other friends too, but she only spent time with them in lessons. And then…the bullying was always bad, and she got a bit too. But I never expected…I never thought they'd kill someone." He sighed. "I know who did it. The last blow before they left her and she died. He boasted about it, I would have thought he'd be ashamed but he wasn't. He's a murderer. And I can't do anything about it."

Fitz didn't know what to do. Lucie…Lucie was someone incredibly special to Paul, and he'd never be like that to him. But if he could offer comfort…  
He put an arm around Paul as he cried. He stayed there for about quarter of an hour, and then when Paul was done, he got a toilet roll from the bathroom. He'd need it. He looked like hell.

At half five, after many games on Wii Fit (who even had that game now? Paul, apparently), there was a sound of a door being opened.

"Hey, Sam!" A man called. "And hey Paul!"

"Hello!" Paul called down. His voice sounded surprisingly level.

Footsteps sounded, coming up the stairs. Paul winced. "I was in school today." He mumbled. "I was hit on the head by a football."

Fitz didn't have time to even nod before the door opened. "Oh!" The man said. He was blonde and tall, smiling. "Who's this?"

"Fitz Kreiner, sir." He said. "I'm Paul's friend."

The man laughed. "Are you paying him to do your homework? Or are you actually friends?"

Fitz wanted to frown. Was it really that bad with the no friends thing (he knew it was. Even he didn't want to associate with Paul at first)?

"We're actually friends."

The man nodded. "Are you okay, Paul?"

Paul shrugged. He didn't add the head shake that Fitz had received earlier.

The man smiled. "Was school okay?"

"A football hit me in PE."

"Not your ankle, I hope?"

Paul smiled. "Nope. It was my head. It doesn't really hurt anymore." He pointed to a section of his head that did actually look sightly swollen…but Paul had been out of PE since he strained one ankle after he broke that other one.

"Thanks for coming over, Fitz." He said. "I'm sure you know why Paul's a bit funny today." Fitz wasn't sure whether he should hate this man or not. He was being blatantly insensitive, but he was, well, probably, Paul's dad. And he couldn't question his friend's dad in his own house.

Thankfully, he left quite soon after that. Paul grimaced at his back.

"Sorry." He said. "Mr Jones can't seem to understand the whole grief thing." That wasn't any variation on dad. Fitz knew, then, that these people weren't Paul's family.

"Is he not your dad, then?" He asked. Maybe it would get his mind off Lucie a bit.

"Nah." Paul said. "They want to adopt me. My parents abused and neglected me, but I don't remember it. It was years ago."

Paul was so chill about it. Oh yeah, his parents abused him, no big deal. Shrug it all off and start again, apparently.

"Right." He said. He didn't really know what to say. Paul was a weird guy. That didn't put Fitz off of being his friend, but it made it harder to actually feel successful in being his friend.

"Do you need to go?" Paul asked.

Fitz shrugged. He probably did have to go, but he'd feel bad if he left Paul now. Paul wasn't okay. It was obvious.

"Go." He said. "I know you need to. I'll be fine, I promise. If I'm not in school tomorrow, try not to worry. I've been given like four days off because…yeah."

Fitz nodded. "Sorry." He said. "Should I do anything? Get your homework or something?"

"I'm having it emailed. But thanks." He said, smiling a little more than before, but not much.

Fitz felt horrible about it, but he left, and went home. He thought about Paul all evening. He couldn't stop thinking about how terrible Paul must feel about everything.

He just really hoped that Paul would be in school the next day.


	3. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz discovers both the benefits and the disadvantages of having Paul as a friend (one of these is that he is unfairly attractive).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so bad at naming chapters...

Paul made it into school the next day, thankfully for Fitz's conscience. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help but feel that Paul probably needed constant company at the moment. He was having a hard time of it, and he must have been in the house alone for hours before Sam had gotten there, and then he would have been alone all night, probably, and he was worried. He wanted to help. It was kinda a fast change from not wanting to help and wanting to help, but he'd decided that hell, he didn't have any friends anyway, and Paul needed one. It should have been that simple in the first place, but for some reason it hadn't been. And he felt bad about it.

"You okay?" He asked the moment he saw Paul. Paul shook his head without hesitation.

"I feel dizzy." He said.

"Did you hit your head yesterday?" Fitz asked. The swelling was worse now, properly visible.  
Paul nodded. His legs were shaking. Fitz helped him over to a bench.

"You shouldn't be here, Paul…you're not well…"  
Paul snorted. "I'll have to be fine. I've left the house, if I go back when I 'didn't' take a day yesterday, I'll have failed."

Fitz nodded. Paul's foster parents or whatever wanted him to do this. "Just be careful." He said.  
"Sure." Paul smiled properly this time, and that felt like a real victory.

\-----

After a week, Paul was a lot better. Fitz had been round at his every day that week after school, and he even went over on Saturday and Sunday afternoon (Paul hadn't said why he couldn't come over in either of the mornings, just that he couldn't. Fitz didn't mind. He was sleeping). By Monday, Paul was back to his usual cheerful self.

It was just after this that Fitz first found himself on the receiving end of the bullying Paul was known for.

"Hey, Fitz!" Someone called. Fitz span around to someone grabbing his bag and throwing it on top of a roof, before running off before Fitz could even tell who it had been.

He continued into the music block. He didn't really care. It was a good excuse to not have his maths homework. Even if he got the bag back, his book could have been taken.

Paul got in about three minutes after him. "Fitz, why is your bag on the roof?"

"Someone threw it up there." He said.

"And you're going to leave it? That's no fun!" Paul said, grabbing his arm. "Let's see what we can do."  
They stood, looking at the bag. "Easy. Try that on the Maths block. I'm not even sure how they got it up there." Paul said, pulling his coat and bag off. "Don't lose that one." He said, shuffling his way up the whole drain pipe and throwing the bag down to Fitz before dropping down himself.

"Thanks. I have to do my maths homework now, though."

Paul laughed. "The answer is sixty seven point three two."

Paul was a good friend to have. The fact that his bag had been taken because he was friends with Paul faded into the background.

\-----

Fitz was pretty sure he was getting a crush on Paul. It was…Paul was cute. He had a cute smile, and his hair was all bouncy and curly, and his eyes…he stared at things a lot, and when he found something interesting, they'd light up. It wasn't like staring at the ocean when you looked at them, it was like looking at a glacier, but not in the cold way. The bright and amazing, wonder of nature, beautiful and clear.

Yeah, he had a crush on Paul. But he could be excused. Paul WAS very cute. And he was nice all the time, always pleasant.

Also, Fitz knew that he at least had a little bit of a chance. Paul was gay. Probably. He'd said he had to prove he was gay to Lucie's mum, and he hadn't added 'even though I'm not gay', so Fitz could safely presume he wasn't straight. Fitz knew he wasn't straight. He'd known for ages, he just never really thought about it. Not until Paul, anyway. Now there was Paul, with his cute face and his stupidly nice smile, and he was thinking about it a lot.  
He didn't act on it, though. Paul was his friend. He didn't want to lose that and he didn't want to put pressure on him. Paul was his only friend, and he was Fitz's only friend. He didn't want to ruin that. He COULDN'T ruin that.

And he wasn't going to. He hadn't even been planning to, not for a long time, anyway. He'd want to wait until Paul felt safe at school, which wasn't going to happen until he left this one.

Basically, he'd accepted that it wasn't going to happen. He'd just appreciate a really close friendship until it ended.

At least, that was what was going to happen. That's what he'd thought would happen.

But then something happened, and, well, that changed everything.


	4. Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something Very Bad has happened.

"Is your foot okay yet, Paul?" Fitz asked.

Paul nodded. "It's been healed for about a week. Why?"

Fitz frowned, and Paul knew then that there was something wrong. "You're still limping."

"Oh. Okay…" He looked down as he walked, and sure enough, he was limping. Maybe his ankle had been set wrong. But then wouldn't it have hurt more? Or just not healed?

Well, it didn't hurt. Surely it didn't matter.

\-----

It did matter to a lot of people, apparently.

"Hey, freak, stop faking!" Someone called. What if he was faking and just tricking himself.

"Ignore them." Fitz said. "Just get it checked out with the school nurse. She doesn't tell, right?"

So he went to the school nurse after school with Fitz to get it seen to. See what hadn't healed and what he needed to do to heal it.

She frowned as she examined it.

"Paul, are you under any stress at the moment?" She asked. It sounded casual enough. He opened his mouth to say no.

"Yes he is." Fitz said. Paul shook his head. "Lucie." He said sternly, and Paul had to nod.

"Yes, I've had problems with grief and stress recently." He said. The nurse frowned.

"It might be psychological." She said. "It will take work to get rid of even if you have a therapist. And I know you don't want more of that. Otherwise, you're completely fine. Other than that bruise, but I'll assume that's from PE."

Paul nodded. Damn it. That's just what he needed. He didn't just have to have trauma and anxiety and depression and bullying problems and actual physical injuries, no, he had to have a psychological injury too. Fun.

\----

Fitz wasn't expecting Paul to actually ask him for help. Paul was a help others and himself kind of person, and he didn't like asking for help.

"I want to walk normally." He said. "I can't let anyone know that I'm less okay than they think."

"I don't know how to help you." He said. "But I'll try."

Paul smiled, but he looked on the verge of tears. Fitz didn't want to see him like this. It hurt.

"So, it doesn't hurt, you're just favouring the leg that wasn't hurt." He said. Paul nodded. Fitz stood up. "Just stand normally, two feet, straight." He smiled encouragingly.

Paul stood up, straight. Fitz could see his weak leg shake as he corrected his stance, but it stilled once he managed to adjust it.

"There." Fitz said. "That's part of the battle already. Do you think you can manage trying to walk without limping?"

Paul nodded.

And he did it. No effort, no shaking leg, he just walked a few steps normally and he looked fine.

"Just keep at it and it'll be gone in no time." Fitz said, grinning widely. Paul didn't look sure, but he returned the smile gratefully.

"I think we can forget it for now." Fitz said. "We should get started on that science work instead."

\------

And that was how it was, for a few days. Paul would practise walking without a limp with Fitz, alone, and it would be easy. So, he started practising not limping in front of his foster parents, and everything was still fine.

He didn't tell Fitz how hard it actually was. How he'd be shaking after Fitz left because his muscles just didn't want to do it and he was forcing them to. He didn't say, because he thought he'd get used to walking normally again and everything would be fine.

It didn't work that way.

\-------

Paul had decided that he wasn't going to limp that day. He'd walk normally, because he could.

It was hard. He was so glad that he had the lessons to just sit down in, because he couldn't have done that much more than a few minutes at a time. It wasn't perfect, but it was something, he supposed. He had something, and that something would fool his therapist, and his parents, and the other adults. He could work on it, and it would get easier. He knew it.

But that didn't stop him from feeling like a failure. Because it was so hard. Everything was difficult by the end of the day. Thinking was difficult, because his mind was running around in circles that made him feel ill, and they were circles of self-loathing. It hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn't concentrate on walking home, he couldn't do that normally. He had to limp, and the limp was worse than it normally was because he was so exhausted, and by the time he reached home he could hardly breathe. Fitz took one look at him once he sat down on his bed and sighed.  
"Sorry." He said. "I shouldn't have expected so much from you so soon. I know it's tiring, but you should have told me it was too difficult…sorry."

Paul started crying. It was the first time since he'd gone through that rough spot that Fitz had seen him cry.

This time, though, it wasn't just crying. It was sobbing. Paul was shaking and crying and could hardly take breath, rocking back and forth, curling in on himself. Fitz didn't know what to do except pull him close.

Paul wasn't someone who generally appreciated personal space in others, especially not with Fitz. He sat distractingly close most of the time. Now, though, Fitz knew that he had to be the one who made the contact.

He pulled Paul into his arms and just held him, letting him rock back and forth, letting him cry, but holding him.

Paul stopped crying after a while. Fitz didn't let him go. He didn't seem to want to move anyway.  
Fitz hugged him. "It's okay, Paul. You don't have to try that again."

Paul hugged him back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so weak…"

"No." Fitz said. He pulled back and looked straight into Paul's eyes. "Paul, you're not well. That's a caused by fucking trauma, and you know who gets those? Soldiers. Your life is hell. You don't have to be perfect."

"My life isn't hell." He said. "I have you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I think I could probably finish it next chapter...


End file.
